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Knife

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Chapter 17: Knife (Anastasia's POV)

"Oh, God," I winced as I sat up in bed the next afternoon. Yes, afternoon. The entire morning had passed, and it wasn't nearly enough for me to recover from the murderous and tenacious hangover that was attacking my skull. 

When I woke up this morning with my head pounding as if it were a beating drum, I could hardly recall anything. Only glimpses of last night played in my head, and the longer I spent straining my memory for more fragments of the night, the worse my headache grew, so I eventually gave up and, of course, went back to bed. 

Waking up this time, vague memories of dancing with a stranger dawned on me as well as taking more shots with Rose that I shouldn't have. I couldn't, however, for the life of me remember how I got home... or why I woke up naked in my bed. 

I could only assume the sequins had started irritating my skin, and I tossed it off because one thing I was certain of was that I hadn't had sex with anybody. That was a decision I would never make while I was drunk because no matter how intoxicated I was, I would never be that far gone, not to the point where I was no longer in my senses in public. 

Fuck, I hadn't slept with anyone in an entire year. Not since Dante Rossi. The last man to ever touch me was Dante, and God, I hated him for it because he truly had ruined me for any other man. 

I'd spent the entire day working the hangover off, and it wasn't until seven in the evening when my phone rang with a call from Marshall, asking me to come into the office and bring a dress and heels along. Naturally, I was confused, but I realized soon enough that we'd be going somewhere undercover tonight, so I grabbed my things, kissed Kenji goodbye, and headed to the office. 

Stopping at Marshall's office, I stepped inside but remained still as I saw him on the phone. 

"Yes, absolutely. We're looking into it..." Pulling the phone away, he held it to his chest. "Dante's in your cabin. He'll explain everything," he whispered quickly. 

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes in annoyance, I silently left. Of course. Dante. Just the man I wanted to see. 

Still holding onto my dress and heels, I stopped at my cabin and pushed the door open. Almost immediately, my body grew still in the doorway, and my breath caught in my throat until my lungs burned, reminding me to breathe, although I'd completely forgotten whatever the hell that was. 

He hadn't heard me walk in, let alone noticed my presence with his back to the door. I realized the moment I stepped inside that the room was only dimly lit, the sole light source being the standing lamp in the corner, behind my desk. The city's lights glimmered through the window, the blinds half-done. 

Dante stood to the left of the room, in the dark, one with the shadows, with his clothes discarded on the couch at his side. 

What the hell is he doing? 

I couldn't help it as I silently stepped into the room and shut the door behind me as cautiously as I could, trying not to get his attention even though I probably should have announced my presence. Unwittingly, my gaze drifted back to him despite me trying to look away, and I couldn't help the way they traveled down his body. 

His shirt lay sprawled on the couch, his upper half bare as his muscles shifted with each movement he made. His shoulders, just as broad as I remembered, if not more now, flexed as he shifted under the golden shade cast over him from the soft light dispersed throughout the room. 

Despite the lights being low, I could make out the scars running across his back. The jagged lines scarring his skin, the hollow wounds left behind, the slightly raised and uneven inches of skin, marking each and every scar across his entire back. Some were old cuts. Some were burn marks. Some were even welt scars left behind from a belt. I remembered sitting there and tracing each scar as if it were yesterday, kissing each scar as I always would. 

My eyes only continued to dip lower as he leaned over to grab his pants, gliding down his waist, pausing at his ass. 

He always did have a hot ass, I promise you. 

I paused in realization as it finally dawned on me what I was doing. 

Oh my fucking God. 

Tearing my eyes off of him as he slipped into his pants, I shuffled back, hoping to escape the room before he ever noticed my presence, but I felt my back crashing into the door before I could even comprehend, the thud being so loud in this quiet room that it practically rattled the walls. 

"Fuck," I whispered to myself. It was so quiet that I practically mouthed it as I closed my eyes tightly, my head falling forward. 

One second passed and then another, and for what seemed like an eternity, he didn't utter a word. When I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes, I found him in the exact same spot, his back still to me. However, he too had grown utterly still, not an inch of those muscles moving. It took a minute, but then he finally turned to face me. 

I sucked in a breath, my eyes meeting his. "Sorry," I rushed out, "I didn't realize you were changing in here. Marshall just told me you'd be here, and I assumed..." I trailed off, the words simply evaporating from the tip of my tongue as an amused smirk danced on his lips. 

"Please," he mused, "continue. I'd really like to see you talk your way out of this one, Ms Vitalio." 

"Okay, first of all," I scoffed, "why are you even changing in here? This is an office. Why didn't you go into the bathroom?" I marched further in, throwing my belongings on the desk chair closest to me. 

"I'm not the weird one here, okay? You don't just take over someone's office, start stripping in there, that too without locking the door, and then blame the other person for walking in, unsuspecting of anything. I mean seriously," I continued rambling, "what are you even doing here?" I breathed out shakily, staring up at him. 

I caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched as he stepped forward once, then twice. With each step closer he took, I found myself instinctively retreating as my eyes helplessly traveled down his chest, just as wide as his shoulders, then drifted down his torso along each one of his abs, then the tattoo inked along his side, an unknown phrase inked in Chinese. 

If I hadn't already known it, seeing him like this again had reconfirmed it; Dante's body was carved out by the Gods. Fuck, he looked like a Greek God himself, and fuck, I could just watch him move with that body for hours. I could just... 

Once I caught a glimpse of his V-line through his unbuttoned pants and past the waistband of his briefs, I closed my eyes and groaned softly, taking one final step back, my lower back colliding with the desk. 

Losing my footing, I braced my hands behind me, leaning as far back as I could to increase the distance between us. I could feel his body mere inches from mine. In the silence of this room, I could hear every breath he took and every shaky sigh that escaped me. 

Please tell me this isn't happening. 

I inhaled sharply, my eyes still closed as I felt his body against mine, his weight on me as he leaned forward and braced his hands on the table, his fingertips brushing against my own as he boxed me in. 

"Ms Vitalio," he said, his voice smooth and dark like whiskey and sin, and oh my God... I couldn't be here. "Open your eyes," he demanded. 

"I'd rather not," I whispered, leaning further back. 

He let out a small huff before I felt his arm around my waist. The moment he touched me, my eyes snapped open, and I stared at him in shock as he lifted me up, forcing me to stand upright. 

My hands almost came up to rest on his chest, but I clutched the edge of the table tighter, my fingertips running cold. 

"What were you doing?" he asked calmly, staring down at me with such intensity in his gaze that I didn't even know what to do with myself. 

"I was..." I trailed off before clearing my throat. 

Get it together. 

"I was just entering my office, Mr Rossi. I think you're the one who should be explaining." 

Dante's eyes roamed across my face, dropping to my lips and lingering there for a while until he took a step back and moved to the couch again. 

A sigh of relief escaped me as my chest caved in. 

"We're going to an auction," he began explaining, grabbing a different shirt, this one black, and slipping it on, slowly buttoning it. "Dean Lancaster is hosting the event. Every person in the goddamn city is invited, just like the previous two events at galleries. 

"It's far too soon for another horrific staged scene to take place, but Marshall thinks going and looking through the crowd would be good. We didn't have enough time to do that at The Revival, so now would be a good opportunity to see if anybody's suspicious." Buttoning up his sleeves, he glanced up at me briefly. "If we're looking for a culprit, we should look for someone who approaches one of us." 

"One of us?" I asked in confusion. 

"The culprit certainly knows by now that we're handling this case. We have to be cautious, and we must stick together. No matter what, you will not leave my side, do you understand?" 

I held his gaze. "We didn't know about this auction earlier?" 

"No," he breathed out, grabbing his suit jacket and slipping it on. "Lancaster sent out invitations this morning. I didn't check, I'm assuming neither did you, but Marshall did." 

"Is Marshall coming with us?" 

"No. He has something else to attend to. It's you and me tonight." 

I stared at him, something dangerously familiar twisting in my stomach, an ache forming between my legs. 

"Get changed," he told me, "we have to leave." 

I pushed off the table and finally stood upright once my legs felt strong enough to hold me. 

With one final look at me, Dante headed toward the door only to stop a few steps short of it. He turned to me with that little smirk on his lips again. "About what just happened..." 

"Don't," I warned sternly. 

His brow twitched up as he eyed my flushed cheeks, only making me more conscious of them. "You won't dream about it, will you?" he taunted. 

I blinked in confusion. "Dream about it... what?" 

"Never mind, Ms Vitalio. Get dressed. You have ten minutes, tops." With that, he walked out, and the door closed behind him. 

"Dream about it?" I mumbled to myself before groaning and shrugging it off as I went ahead and locked the door. Stripping out of my clothes, I slipped into the black dress I brought along. 

The fabric ran down to my toes, a slit traveling high up my left leg to my thigh, with a rather deep V-neckline that ran to the middle of my ribs and halter straps that came together at the base of my neck, leaving my back bare. A plain golden clasp held the dress together at my sternum, leaving more than enough cleavage and skin for show. 

With the limited makeup I kept in the office for times like this, I wrapped it up quickly with a swipe of a soft cherry red lip gloss and simply ruffled up my hair as best as I could. Opening a drawer, I grabbed a dagger and a knife sheath, swiftly strapping it onto my thigh before wearing my heels and then unlocking the door and stepping out. 

Smoothly adjusting the dress as the fabric clung to my body, I stopped before Dante. "Let's go." 

It was impossible to miss the way his eyes trailed down every inch of me, especially when it felt like his gaze left a trail of fire across my skin. 

It was growing increasingly difficult to keep my composure around him. To leave the past in the past, to keep my body from reacting to his, to keep my hands off of him. Especially after what I saw tonight and what it did to me. 

Fuck... 

The ghost of him that haunted me the past year had never left, but the craving I felt for him was certainly coming back with full force. I wanted to feel him. His hands on me, his lips on mine, his mouth on me. Suddenly, I wanted him everywhere and all at once, and it was taking every ounce of me to remind myself why that was a terrible, terrible idea. 

I couldn't do this, we couldn't do this. He would only hurt me again. It would never end well. We had no future together. 

The silence between us in the elevator was almost suffocating until he broke it. "Your knife sheath is showing," he said, drawing my attention. 

My eyes drifted down to the part of my thigh that the slit in my dress left exposed. If I wore it any higher, it would be stabbing into my thigh all night. "I'll fix it in the bathroom once we arrive," I told him. 

"And if they don't let you in?" he prompted. 

"I don't think anyone questions an FBI agent," I scoffed lightly. 

"Fix it while you can," he demanded, glancing at the countdown on the elevator. 

"It's not such a big deal," I mumbled in annoyance. 

"It's distracting," he argued. 

"Then don't look," I deadpanned. "If it's bothering you so much, you can fix it yourself." 

His eyes met mine. "Don't tempt me." 

"Is that a challenge?" I taunted him. My entire body grew rigid as his hand slammed down on the stop button, bringing the elevator to a sudden halt. I was reminded of all the reasons why provoking Dante Rossi was never a good idea. 

An average man who tried it would be killed in the blink of an eye. 

I turned to face him. "Don't be ridiculous." 

"Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge, Ms Vitalio?" He stalked forward, eating up the small distance between us, eventually leaving me with nowhere to go; I was backed up against the wall, and Dante stood a few inches away from me. 

He began to reach forward, and I felt his hand brush against my hip, drifting down to the slit in my dress, then gently caressing the skin exposed on my thigh. 

I sucked in a sharp breath and caught his arm. "I'll fix it," I said quickly. "I'll fix it, okay?" 

Leaning forward as he let out a slow sigh, he braced his hands on the wall, either side of me, caging me in. "Do I make you nervous, Ms Vitalio?" 

"No," I huffed, resting my head against the wall. 

"You seem flustered." 

"I'm not," I persisted.

"Are you scared I'm going to touch you?" 

"Your touch, Mr Rossi, is not something I'm afraid of." 

"Then why," he breathed out, his hand drifting down to my thigh once again, meeting my skin this time, "are you stopping me?" 

Despite the death grip I still had on his sleeve, he continued to touch me, and I continued to let him as he twisted the strap of the knife sheath against my skin, taking it higher up my thigh without ever looking down at it. 

I gasped sharply as I felt the blade slightly poke my skin. It was finally out of sight. 

Moving away from me, he hit the button again, the elevator jerking back into its descent. 

One of us will not make it out alive tonight... I'm so fucking sure of it. 

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Chapter 17

Not as much of a slow burn this one... huh?

Let's make it burn a bit though, shall we?

next ch: touch

PS- outfits are the first comment